Both Sides of the Border, page 2
Olivia, the slightly larger girl of the group, spoke out of the darkest corner of the truck. “My second time, too. My luck wasn’t good the first time, either.”
“What happened?” Dolores asked.
“Like Lola, I traveled as a child with my parents,” Olivia replied. “We made it on foot and on the train for quite some distance into Mexico. I was separated from my parents at a train stop, and within a few minutes, they were taken by the authorities and later sent to Honduras. I stayed with a lady in our group. She promised she would help me go to the United States. We traveled a little while longer, and I told her I wanted to go back to Honduras and find my parents.”
“And did you find them?” Dolores asked.
“I found my father,” she said, hanging her head downward. “My mother was killed before they made it back to Honduras.”
“That’s so sad, Olivia. I’m sorry for you and your family.”
“It was painful and a hard time for us. My father said they were robbed by some men who took all of their belongings and then killed my mother. They tried to kill my father, too. He was hurt but didn’t die. My father wants me to go to the United States for the sake of my mother. He said he wanted me to know that she died for us to have a better life, and we should try again for her.”
“I’ll pray for you, too,” Dolores said as she turned away from the group. She didn’t want the other girls to see her crying. She questioned her own decision to leave Honduras. Perhaps she should’ve stayed with her family. She missed her mother, father, and grandmother. She worried that they needed her. No, she thought, I couldn’t send my two little brothers alone.
Dolores looked across the truck at her two brothers. Despite the thumping, rocking, and bumping of the truck, they were sleeping. She prayed for their safety. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t stay awake a moment longer.
During the night, the truck made its way across the Honduras-Guatemala border. The trek through Guatemala would require a couple of days across the hidden backroads. Once they reached the river, the coyote would help them cross it to Mexico.
The truck stopped abruptly and pulled to the side of the dirt road near a clump of trees. Dawn was approaching, and the sky turned from black to light gray. The coyote opened the door and got out of the front of the truck. He walked to the end of the truck bed, where the travelers had been sleeping, and opened the hatch in the back.
“Wake up. Everyone out. We’ll travel through the night and take a break in the daylight hours. It’s easier to travel the roads during the night. Less risk,” the coyote said.
One by one, the weary passengers unloaded from the truck as the coyote had instructed.
“Okay. Now, you can go find some places to rest or eat. Some of you brought food. Others can look for fruit in the trees over there,” he gestured. “When it starts to get dark again, we’ll load up and go back on the road.”
Dolores and her brothers adapted to resting during the day under the trees or behind bushes and traveling at night. Dolores stayed close to her brothers but within her own group of women.
“We need to stay together as a group,” Olivia said. “Some women have been attacked while traveling.”
“It’s true. I saw this happen when I traveled as a young girl. It’s frightening.” Lola nodded her agreement.
All of the male travelers were being respectful of the women and girls in the group. Many of the male travelers had mothers or sisters traveling with them. There were only two intact families that traveled as parents with their young children. Dolores worried for them and said many prayers.
In the afternoons, the group looked for fruit that grew in the area. Sometimes, they were lucky. People living nearby who saw the group searching for food gave the young children meals or fruit. Others who brought food with them shared with the children. In turn, the children offered it to their parents or to some of the women who were helping the families. Dolores looked at her brothers. They looked thinner than they had been just a few days ago.
“Ernesto, have you and Emilio eaten any food today?” Dolores asked.
“No, we had some fruit yesterday. We’re fine. And we have a bottle of water we share,” Ernesto replied.
“Look what one of the children gave to me,” she said as she handed the boys a single large tortilla. Ernesto tore the tortilla into three even pieces.
“What do you think Mamá is fixing for dinner tonight?” Emilio asked.
“Probably a large tortilla,” Ernesto answered.
“No, a giant one!” Emilio said with outstretched hands.
The three siblings shared the tortilla and talked and laughed together. For a moment, they were a family again. They already missed home and the quiet countryside. Longing for the small house surrounded by lush plants with their loving family inside, silence took over, and their faces became sullen.
To cheer up her brothers, Dolores whispered, “We’re blessed. So far, we haven’t had to use any of our hidden money.”
Both brothers nodded as they chewed bites of their share of the tortilla.
The week before Dolores, Ernesto, and Emilio left for the trip, Dolores had sewn small pockets with button-down flaps inside each of their shirts. Inside each pocket, they had placed some money. They agreed the money wasn’t to be used for food if at all possible, but only for travel. Dolores anticipated multiple people along the way would ask for money to take them to their next stop. So far, the three had been able to hold on to their money. She wasn’t sure they had enough, but she trusted that God would watch over them as they went on their journey.
After they finished their tortilla, Dolores commented, “The other women who have been here before told me we are getting close to the river.”
“Maybe we can cross it tomorrow,” Ernesto said.
“That’ll be great,” Emilio remarked. “We will soon be in Mexico, and next, we will be in the United States! Not long now,” he said and laughed.
“That’s right,” Ernesto said.
Dolores smiled, but she was terrified about what was ahead. She feared it might be treacherous crossing at the river or that there’d be violence in Mexico. The women had told her so many frightening stories in the past few days.
The coyote signaled it was time to board the truck and move closer to the river.
“This will be your last time in this truck.” The coyote seemed distressed. “Then, I take you to the edge of the river. Maybe we can cross tonight. I’ll tell you what to do. Once you are on the other side, in Mexico, you can find another coyote to help you, if you want, to take you to Tapachula.”
The coyote, with a serious tone in his voice, warned the group, “The train makes many stops. You might need to leave the train and then board again at multiple cities and towns. If you can’t get on the train in Tapachula, you should make your way to Arriaga and get on the train there.”
Dolores hoped to get on the train in Tapachula. She didn’t want to travel further on foot. The more they traveled on foot, the longer the journey. Once they found the railyard, they would need to catch a train and later jump off at each stop and catch the train again as they traveled through Mexico. Crossing over to Mexico would be the first difficult task.
The passengers traveled through the night in fearful silence. Each one staring out the back of the truck thinking about the difficult journey across the river.
Chapter Two
THE BUTTERFLIES IN EVA’S STOMACH worked overtime as she stepped on the glossy white front porch of her mother’s small Cape Cod home and opened the squeaky screen door. Eva’s excitement about her move to another state was tempered by the knowledge that her mother fiercely objected to the idea. As much as Eva loved her, it seemed to Eva that her mother doubted Eva’s self-reliance.
“I thought you would’ve been here earlier,” her mother hollered from the kitchen.
“Sorry. I had to finish packing up the apartment.”
Eva entered the kitchen, filled with the familiar smells of homecooked food. She knew the long, silent pause lingering in the air was her mother’s way of telling her once again that the move to south Texas was not approved.
“That smells wonderful,” Eva commented, hoping to lighten the mood for the evening.
“Just the same chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes,” her mom replied.
Eva quickly grabbed for a small bite of the extra crunchy crust already on the platter. She loved those little fried tidbits, even if they were unhealthy.
Her mother slapped Eva’s hand gently and, in one motion, returned to the frying pan. “No sneaking ahead of time,” she warned as she shook her finger.
Her mother turned the sizzling meat over in the pan and went back to loading slabs of butter in the creamy mashed potatoes.
“Anybody else coming over to join us?” Eva asked.
“You know your sisters are all busy with their kids,” she said, shaking her head as she started the gravy. “I never heard of so many activities. Baseball, soccer, basketball, piano, science club. You would think your sisters didn’t want their own kids around. Seems this generation has forgotten the important things.”
“Now, Mom,” Eva calmly scolded, “you know they want their kids to have lots of opportunities.”
“Even so,” her mother commented. “Your sisters have busy lives. Too busy, if you ask me.”
“I’ll call them before I leave and tell them goodbye,” Eva said. “I was hoping to see them tonight.”
Eva was not the prettiest girl of the four girls in the family. But she might be the second prettiest. Second only to her older sister, who was, after all, the winner of their high school beauty pageant. Not having the natural beauty her sister possessed contributed to Eva’s self-determination. She had to make decisions and fend for herself when her sister merely gave a smile and a wink and things happened automatically. Eva trudged on behind the scenes with clearly defined goals. Goals like finishing college, marrying at a certain age, and starting a great career. Her goals hadn’t included a nasty divorce from an abusive husband, working as a housekeeper, and using food stamps as she worked her way through school. Her plans didn’t include asking for a loan to pay the divorce attorney. Her original plans were to reach particular achievements and live happily ever after.
When Eva’s plans fell apart, her mother attempted to comfort her by saying, “If you want to make God laugh, just make a plan.” But Eva got through it. She was strong. She had an unwavering conviction to have a better life, a life better than her mother and sisters, who married disappointing men and then quickly produced a multitude of children.
“Let me put these on the table,” Eva said, once again hoping to prod her mother into a happier frame of mind.
“Thank you. Now, Eva, please explain to me one more time—this time so I understand—why in the world you are moving to Brownsville, Texas?”
“Mom, you know it’s for a job. I’m going to be a professor. And I am very grateful that they extended the offer to me since I just graduated.”
“Now, look here, just because you have a Ph.D. doesn’t mean you know everything. In fact, there’s a lot you don’t seem to understand.”
“Such as?” Eva knew what was coming. Her mother could voice any number of objections.
“Well, for one thing, Brownsville, Texas, is dangerously close to Mexico. And why in the world do you want to move down there with those liberal Democrats?”
Eva’s mother bragged that she was one of the few people in Southside, Virginia, who voted for any Republican candidate on the ticket. As for Eva, she often told her mother that she considered each candidate for their platform. In reality, she rarely voted and didn’t care much about politics. Eva clearly understood that her mother did not approve of her move or of “those liberal university people.”
“Oh, Mother,” Eva replied, “I’m sure there are conservatives and liberals in south Texas.”
“And don’t you know what is going on down there? I mean, those illegals come across every day. I saw on the news—”
“Mom, you have got to stop watching cable news all the time. You need to get out more and, you know, talk to people.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes. I see plenty of people! I see people at church and in the women’s prayer group. And even they are worried about you. And me talking to people? You’re one to talk,” her mother said, giving her “the look.”
“Okay, Mom. Let’s eat,” she said, trying to change the subject before her mother could begin the “When are you going to start dating?” questions.
“Seriously, honey, when are you going to date someone again?”
Too late, Eva thought.
“I know that scoundrel of a husband you had was just awful. But there are others out there just waiting to meet a nice girl like you. Plenty of men out there, you know.”
Eva’s divorce was still raw. She didn’t want to talk about that with her mother again. She was over that dark phase of her life. She was moving on to a better future.
“Mom, I’m hardly a girl. I’m twenty-nine you know,” she said, diverting the conversation.
“Of course, I know you’re twenty-nine. I was there when you were born.” They both laughed.
“This is delicious,” Eva said, taking another bite of mashed potatoes and chicken-fried steak totally smothered in gravy.
“I’ll bet you won’t get food like this down where you’re going,” her mother remarked, taking a second helping of potatoes.
“No, probably not, Mom.” Eva agreed with her mother to keep from going down the road of comparing Mexican food with Mom’s Southern cooking.
“So, as I was saying, when will you start dating? All of that hard work and studying is over. Now you will have time for a social life,” her mother said, patting Eva’s hand.
“We’ll see, Mom. You know I will have to work really hard now to get tenure.”
“Oh, good grief. Don’t use work as an excuse. There’s nothing like a good, strong marriage to help you through everything.”
Her mother talked about perfect marriages as if she’d had one. Eva’s own father had abandoned the family when Eva was quite young. Perhaps being raised by a single mother provided the foundation for her own autonomy. She’d been expected to take on responsibilities from an early age that did not burden most children. She was proud that she didn’t need anyone. She could achieve whatever she set her mind to.
“Are you excited about the new job?” her mother asked.
Eva was shocked. The job offer was extended two months ago, and this was the first time her mother had asked her about her new position.
“I am very excited.”
“Tell me what you already know about the job,” her mother requested as she scooped up another spoonful of gravy.
“The faculty members are pretty amazing. They’re doing research in the local schools. And one woman—her name is Maria—a senior faculty member, was very impressed with my teaching and dissertation research. I’m thinking I’ll ask her to be my mentor.”
“What? Land sakes. You get a Ph.D. and still have to have someone mentor you? I never . . . ” She just shook her head instead of finishing her sentence.
“It’ll make getting tenure easier. That’s what people tell me, anyway.”
“Okay, now to the important question. How long will you be there? I mean, you’ll move back here, won’t you?” Her mother’s question had a hint of desperation in her voice, and her eyes pled with her.
“Maybe. But I have to be there for six years before I can apply for tenure.”
“Six years? Six years? You’ll be thirty-five by then! You’d better find someone by then.”
“Mother, good grief. That would be nice, but that isn’t the reason I’m going.” Eva could not deny that at some point she would like to meet a perfect someone.
“You know, something else . . . well, I’ll just say it.” Her mother hesitated for a bit.
“What?”
“You know, I’m a worry wart.” Her mother’s eyebrows raised up and came together when she was worried. Eva could see clearly that something was upsetting her.
“Okay, Mom, what?”
“It’s the location. I mean, besides being right there at Mexico, you are in hurricane territory.”
“Mom, you know the good thing about hurricanes? You have plenty of warning.”
“Eva, I’ll be watching the news, and if I see so much as a hint of a tropical storm—”
“You’ll call me,” Eva finished the sentence for her mother.
“Yes.”
The evening ended without any major conflicts. Her mother, heartbroken and not understanding Eva’s motives at all, gave her a lingering hug as Eva stepped out on the porch.
“Now, you call me,” her mother said, taking a tissue from her apron pocket and wiping her eyes. “And don’t forget to call your sisters to tell them goodbye.”
“Okay. I’ll call you often, Mom. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” she answered with only a twinge of doubt.
* * *
One last check, Eva thought. She scanned the efficiency apartment. Everything she owned, which was scant, was packed. A clean break; that’s what this is, Eva thought to herself.
She crammed the last of her clothing into her overflowing suitcase. Her overnight bag, a few boxes of books, and a box of kitchen items were neatly packed in her second-hand car. Eva rolled her suitcase out and loaded it into the trunk. She was off to a new life exactly 1,602 miles away. Her planned route included stops at two economy hotels at strategic points. It was possible to make the trip in two very long days, but she opted to make the drive in three. Her new apartment, conveniently near the university and a short thirty-minute drive from the coast, was waiting for her. She would arrive two weeks before the first day of class.
The uncluttered sky presented no issues for driving. Music was her only accompaniment in the small, overpacked car. The open car windows invited the Southern humid air inside as she drove, blowing through her hair, providing an even stronger sense of freedom. For a moment, she felt as though she was in a car commercial zooming down the highway to the music. Passing through the mountains gave her pause.
